Tequila!
Kinky wants you to dance until you burn
Broken Social Scene Has What You Need
The men of Kinky have a machine behind them. And half of that machine, Kinky’s manager, has stopped by for our interview and is sitting in Omar and Carlos’s spare and modest living room, pleasantly quashing just with his elegant and reserved presence any stupid questions I might have wanted to ask the men of Monterrey. I sit, and watch them valiantly try to fill my awkward interview silence.
Luckily, the other half of the machine stops by after the first half of the machine leaves, throws some shit at me, body slams me into the couch and holds me there, and howls for tequila, a bottle of which I have brought to join Kinky’s many tequila flavors. Gil and Cesar and Uli (who studied economics and then studied at the Berklee School of Music) wander into the kitchen to give us some space or to avoid the flailing limbs as I try to kick their agent in the knee. It is probably too early for hijinks. It is 4:30 p.m.
Before Kinky’s menace of an agent arrived, and the “interview” quickly devolved, I learned: Monterrey, Mexico, is an industrial city of three or four million people; you need a car there; its music scene, which had mostly consisted of the traditional strains of folklorico, managed to spawn El Gran Silencio and Control Machete; Kinky like playing hippie festivals in the forest; they will play one soon in Humboldt, during the harvest; they played Viva Latino in Mexico City before 75,000 people, and Red Rocks in Denver, and the Royal Festival Hall in London. Two weeks ago, they played the Black Arts Festival in Atlanta. Were they well-received? “Yeah, yeah! Disco or rock, we fit anywhere! There was no sound check, we just started right away, just started with some jam, and this guy was already dancing to any little sound, just feedback or anything. We hadn’t even started yet!”
It is important, the men of Kinky tell me, to have a good crowd enjoying what you do, and yes, they watch from the stage and feed off it. And those freaky groupie girls, who stare at one member the whole time, unblinking? They see you, and you should move your eyes sometimes, because otherwise you are scary.
Last week, they played Central Park, a show so awesome their bill-mates Porter broke up afterward, and their agent, a psychotic flameball of a man, rants something about “dancing Japanese” that makes no sense, and then wanders like a homeless into the kitchen for mas tequila. Once, they played a festival with De La Soul, Cake, the Flaming Lips, and Modest Mouse. Oh, how wonderful that must have been! Also, one of them recommends Zune, where for $15 a month, you have unlimited downloads. The downside? Once you stop paying, your access to everything you downloaded disappears; you’re only renting the songs, not buying them.
On Sunday, when they play Sunset Junction, they will do a few tracks off their forthcoming album Barracuda, a monstrously catchy Spanglish disc with a heavy retro ’80s pop vibe (it’s sorta disco and totally great, and more organic than synthetic) – probably “Baila” (“dance until you burn”) or “Avian.” And I’d guess they’d do some stuff off Reina, an album with a bit of a heavier grind to it. Or one of their many others, which I haven’t heard, because mostly, since Kinky are Mexican, we were listening to Morrissey.
Kinky plays Sunday at 8 p.m.
Published: 08/20/2008
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